


Treatment

by jaradel



Series: Where It Started Between Us [2]
Category: August: Osage County (2013)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/pseuds/jaradel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles accompanies Ivy to her first radiation treatment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treatment

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks once again to [agameofscones (Orithea)](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/orithea/pseuds/agameofscones) for beta reading this fic :)

May, 2012

                Charles accompanies Ivy to her first radiation treatment in Tulsa, even though it is at 9am. He makes sure to set his alarm two hours in advance of when she’d be picking him up, to ensure that he’s ready on time. Turns out that’s a good thing, because he spends thirty minutes trying to decide what to wear, then another ten chastising himself for treating Ivy’s radiation treatment like it’s a date. Finally he settles on a plain navy blue t-shirt, faded jeans, and a well-worn but still serviceable pair of Chucks. Ivy warned him that the treatment may take hours, and he should be comfortable.

                Ivy picks him up at 8am, and he feels suddenly bashful as he tries to hide his goofy grin. All his attempts to stifle it just make it bigger, though, and he relaxes fractionally when he sees a matching grin on Ivy. Silly, he thinks, that they’re acting like two teenagers at their age, but there’s something wonderfully exciting about this illicit relationship they’ve embarked on, as if they’re keeping a secret from the whole world. In a way, they are.

                Charles folds his long frame into the passenger seat of Ivy’s Honda, and leans over for a quick kiss – barely a peck on the lips – before they pull out of the parking lot. They had to set a few rules, because Pawhuska and Bartlesville are small towns, and the Weston and Aiken families are well-known. Rule Number One is no public displays of affection. You never know when a friend of the family (or indeed, a family member) might be out and about, and catch you. Rule Number Two is no cohabitation. They talked about getting a two-room place, and saying that Charles was Ivy’s roommate for financial reasons, but they reckoned that people would see through that pretty quickly, so it’s safer for them to live apart. Granted, their relationship hasn’t progressed beyond kissing (and some intimate touching), but at their age, and in their unique situation, it’s best to lay all the cards out on the table.

                “Bought you a coffee,” Ivy says, picking up one of the cups from the center console and handing it to him. He takes a careful sip – it’s still piping hot – and smiles. Black, two sugars; Ivy remembers.

                “Thanks, honey,” he says, holding the cup in his right hand as he places his left hand carefully on her knee. Her answering smile is encouragement enough, and a little thrill goes through him when she covers his large hand with her small one. They ride like this for a good fifteen minutes, comfortable in their silence; after so many years of close friendship, the addition of romance hasn’t fundamentally changed how they relate to each other. Charles has never felt so completely content in all his life, and because he is Charles, and nothing good truly happens to him, he also wonders when the other shoe will drop.

                Ivy breaks the silence. “I’m nervous, Charles.”

                Charles turns his hand under hers, lacing their fingers together and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know. I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to go through this.”

                Ivy squeezes his hand in return. “Distract me,” she says. “I’m thinkin’ too much about it and workin’ myself up. Talk to me.”

                “Anything in particular?” Charles asks hesitantly. Small talk is not his forte; he’s as clumsy with words as he is with his body – that is, with anyone but Ivy.

                Ivy smiles. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

                Charles thinks for a moment, then smiles bashfully. “Remember my senior prom?”

                “No, who’d you go with?”

                “I didn’t.”

                “You went alone?”

                “No, I didn’t go.”

                “Why not?”

                “Because the girl I wanted to ask, I knew she wouldn’t be able to go with me. So instead of going to the prom, I spent the evening with her, hangin’ out behind her daddy’s shed, drinkin’ beer and dancin’ under the stars. Best night of my life.”

                Now it’s Ivy’s turn to blush. “I remember now,” she says fondly. “I wondered why you wanted to hang out that night. I never made the connection.”

                Charles turns to look at Ivy. To him, she has always been the most beautiful girl he’s ever known, with her auburn hair and tanned skin and freckles everywhere. He likes how he can span her hips with his hands, how he can wrap her up completely in his arms, how she has to stand on tiptoe to kiss him. “I would’ve been so proud to take you to my prom, Ivy Weston. You’d have been the most beautiful girl there.”

                Ivy laughs. “I’d have been the _oldest_ girl there, that’s for sure. Twenty-four when you were seventeen.”

                “I don’t care,” Charles says with conviction. “I’ve never cared that you’re older than me. We always _fit_ together. You got me the way no one else did.”

                “Family black sheep, gotta stick together,” Ivy says with a sad smile. She turns her full attention back to driving as they approach Tulsa and concentrates on navigating through the city to the hospital. Charles watches as the anxiety settles on her face once again, tightening the corners of her mouth and setting her jaw. He lets go of her hand and moves his hand to the back of her neck, giving her the gentlest of massages while also trying not to distract her too much. It hurts him to see Ivy so upset, and frustrates him to be so powerless in the face of her cancer, but he knows how to comfort, and if that’s all he can do for her, then by God he’s gonna do it.

                They park in the north parking garage at Saint Francis Hospital. Ivy shuts the car off, but makes no move to get out just yet; she just sits there, with a thousand-yard stare. Charles rubs his thumb gently against her neck, but Ivy doesn’t respond.

                “Ivy?” he asks softly, tentatively.

                Ivy looks at him then, his beautiful Ivy, scared but determined to face this down. “Ivy,” he murmurs, the word barely a rumble, and leans awkwardly over the center console to pull her into his embrace. “Ivy, I’m here, I will _always_ be here for you. I can’t be in the treatment room with you, but I’ll be right outside, and I’ll take care of you I promise. I’ll take you home, and you can rest, and I’ll stay with you, I don’t care what people think. I will be here for you, no matter what.”

                Ivy shudders against him, but doesn’t cry. She wraps her arms around his back as best she can in their awkward position, and even though the console’s going to leave a bruise on his left hip, Charles doesn’t let go until Ivy does. She looks up at him as she pulls away, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, and Charles can’t help but smile back – a full wide grin that makes him look decades younger than his thirty-six years. He cups her small face in his large hands, swiping his thumbs across her freckle-dusted cheekbones, and kisses her softly, gently, but confidently. He pours all of his love for her into the chaste meeting of their lips, because even though they haven’t yet said the words to each other, it’s really a formality – they’ve loved each other all their lives.


End file.
